Memorycemetery

This city almost seems nice while its asleep. The derelict night life has gone back into hibernation as the last of the neon signs on the fronts of bars and night clubs switch off and most of the burning oil drums used by the cities thousands of homeless to keep warm on a cold winter night such as tonight have been extinguished. Traffic begins to pick up again as the sun rises, bringing out the morning commuters.

My breath hangs in the air in front of my face as I sigh and lean my head back. 6:42am. The sun is rising, silhouetting the horizon and casting a ghostly pale light on the city. It doesn’t feel like I’ve been out all night. It feels like a dream.

***
My night began normally, like so many others. I sat down on the couch and loosened my tie. Before I could turn on the TV my phone rang. The screen illuminated and the name “Jimmy” flashed across it.

“You busy tonight?” he begins before I can even say hello.

“No-”

He cuts me off. “Yes you are. We’re having a get-together up here. Tons of people. Tons of beer. Come.”

I wasn’t big on the idea. I prefer not to drink. “I’ll be there.”

I was amazed at how many people he could fit into his eighth floor apartment. I stood on the small balcony, staring across the crowded street at the flashing neon sins and people wandering the streets in a drunken stupor. The smell of alcohol and the sound of people laughing and carrying-on enveloped me as the sliding glass door opened.

A young brunette stumbled drunkenly towards me. I’d seen her at previous parties and gatherings, but I’d never payed much attention to her. I couldn’t remember her name to save my life.

“Hey you,” she slurred as she draped her arms over my shoulders. The smell of alcohol seeps through my nostrils.

I hate that smell.

She removes her arms and stumbles to the railing. She leans over and loses her balance. I catch her and somehow our lips collide. All I can taste is beer.

But something feels right.

We pull apart and she stares at me, her deep eyes watering over with tears. I see her now for the first time. She’s absolutely beautiful.

“Will you take me home?” she asks, her voice rasp as she begins to sob softly.

I help her up and surprise myself by saying “Sure.”

I walk her through the crowded streets back to her apartment. I help her into bed, then stay with her until she’s asleep. Most men would take this opportunity to take advantage of her, using her to perform various sexual acts. But I’m not like that.

I stand and turn to leave.

“Wait,” she calls as I reach the door. I turn to find her walking towards me. I can tell she’s sobered up.

She sighs, then looks back at me with her deep eyes. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel something inside of me- some kind of attraction to you. I know it must sound crazy because we just met, but…”

I begin to wonder if she’s as sober as she seems.

The strange thing is that I feel it too. I surprise myself even more when my arms wrap around her waist and I pull her in and kiss her. She stares at me with those damn eyes, swelling with tears.

She slips out of my arms. “I don’t care about tomorrow, or the day after. All I care about is that you’re here. Now.” She removes her shirt.

I awake in bed next to her, both of us naked. It hurts like hell, but I know I have to leave her. I get up and dress, then kiss her forehead as I leave.

***
This isn’t the first one night stand I’ve ever had. But this one hurts more than the rest and it’s ripping my heart out as I walk through this sleeping city, the sun rising and bringing out the early commuters.

And I don’t even have a name to call her by.

Other posts by Traverse

Everyone has those days that they’ll never forget. Those days that have had such a large impact on someone that it changes them for the rest of their life.

I know I’ll never forget the happiest day of my life- the day that I got married to Alyssa, the kind of girl that every guy dreams of. I also know I’ll never forget the day that she was torn from my life.

I still remember hearing the phone ring, her voice whispering over the line. “I need help” she said, barely audible.

I remember getting to the scene of the accident. I remember her car being in the ditch, I remember the truck being on its side in the middle of the road. I remember all of the flashing lights and police officers and EMT’s. It all seems like a bad dream to me now. But the sun was shining by the time I got there. The sun doesn’t shine in bad dreams.

“You need to stop,” said a police officer as he held his hand to my chest in an attempt to restrain me.

That’s my wife!” I shouted as I saw her being lifted into the back of the ambulance.
I remember riding in the back of the ambulance, holding her small, cold hand in mine as she drifted in and out of consciousness, whispering “I love you” and “hang in there” to her, not even caring if she heard me or not. I remember the gash in her forehead. I remember the blood running down her arms. I remember the bloodstains in her shirt.

The worst part of this ordeal was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, and the doctors coming out, telling me there were no improvements, hour after hour. Eventually they told me I needed to go home. I refused.

I was allowed into her room on the morning of the second day. I sat on the edge of her bed. Her hand found mine and held it weakly.

I love you,” she whispered, her eyes barely open.

“I love you too” was the last thing I said before I heard her heart monitor flatline. I held her hand in mine, tears running down my face, as doctors rushed in and pushed me out of the room.

I’ll never forget that day. It’s a recurring dream that haunts me every night I lay alone in bed. I’ll never forget that day.

Traverse

Other posts by Traverse